Say I look nice (When I'm not)
by Dholes
Summary: Aurelius of Phoenix stops at nothing to rescue a loved one.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Bullets tore through soft padding. The Legionary took six bullets to his chest, before dropping only a few yards from the NCR trooper who fired them. The moment he hit the floor, the leading sergeant gave the all clear, once he'd given that same fallen Legionary a kick to ensure he was dead. The Legion had been eradicated from Camp Nelson. All but one, that was. The team of troopers left one particular Legionary alive. The one who had caused their own camp so much misery, the one who had strung up the remains of their friends for fun.

Decanus Dead Sea.

That name could stop any idle chatter in Forlorn Hope. It was a name nobody dared to speak, as they feared the monstrous Legionary could appear at the mere mention of his name. The troopers would make jokes about most Legion names, making a mockery of the Latin language the fascists treasured so dearly. But no man dared mock Dead Sea. It was a name that could send a shiver down any man's spine. So dark and fore boarding.

The Decanus didn't go without a fight though. Like all Legionaries, he saw the fight through to what he hoped would've been the bitter, bloody end. He took cover in the bathrooms of the barracks, the two troopers stayed behind the two grubby, bloodstained mattresses. What was expected to be a firefight, became a game of macro-polo, only with bullets. Private Green would fire at Dead Sea, Dead Sea would stay hidden behind the walls. Dead Sea returned fire, both troopers made sure to stay firmly behind their own makeshift barricades. Someone had to run out of bullets soon enough, both parties knew who would loose their firepower first.

The faint clicking of an empty cartridge that came from the bathroom was the signal that the Legionary was out of bullets and out of options. And most importantly: Nowhere to run or hide. The two troopers moved forward through the barracks. The rotten floorboards creaked under their boots, like the floor was ready to give out from under them at any given moment. The insufferable creaking ruled out a stealthy assault, but it wasn't like they needed one, their target had nowhere to run too.

"On three" One trooper mouthed to the other.

The younger trooper nodded, letting out a shaky breath. His body pumped with adrenalin, his hands shook unable to hold his service rifle steady. Reynalds held up one single finger, mouthing the number silently. Then came two fingers. Bile built up in Green's throat, the tension and anxiety becoming too much for the young trooper.

Three fingers.

"Now!" The other exclaimed, sprinting around the corner, rifle in hand. Green went in a split second after- Only to suddenly be coated in a splatter of blood. The sound of a blade slicing through flesh, then the scream of the Sargent who was without a left hand. Cut off by a Legion blade.

The one welded by Dead Sea himself, the Liberator.

The leather and bone handle was gripped tightly in the gloved hand. Green's eyes focused on the blade, dripping with the blood of his friend. His eyes then trailed from the blade, to the arm that welded it. Thick black brandings, burned deep into the man's flesh. A symbol of Caesar's ownership over this man. The men of the Legion were slaves too- But they just couldn't see the chains they wore. Finally, his eyes met those of his enemies. Though they were hidden behind dark goggles, he could see there was no humanity left in them. No compassion for others, like every other Legion scum bag.

The Decanus rose his blade, up to the chin of the younger male. The Sargent was no longer a threat to him, he lay screaming and writhing over in the corner about his now stump hand. He strode past the whimpering wreck and over to his next kill. When the tip of the blade met the troopers flesh, Dead Sea heard the faintest whimper. That made him smirk, how quickly the Republic could loose their advantage.

"You've done well. To destroy what forces I had here..." The Decanus snarled, starting to back the trooper up against the wall. "Your only error... Was challenging me." He growled deeply, the blade pressed deeper into the troopers flesh now.

"Y-you're-"  
"What was that, Profligate?" The Legionary taunted, cupping his free hand over where his ear was. "I didn't quite catch that, the sound of your fear drowned it out a little..."

"You're- In deep shit." The young Private growled back. The sudden burst of confidence was enough to take Dead Sea back slightly, just enough for the blade of the machete to come half an inch from his throat, giving some breathing space. Dead Sea recovered in almost a flash, going to press the blade back in, and probably kill the man.

A shot rang out from behind the both of them, then three more. The Decanus gave a cry of pain before buckling and collapsing to the ground. Blood gushing from the back of his knee. Behind the swearing, quivering wreck of a Decanus, was Sargent Reynalds who held a pistol that emitted a string of smoke from four fresh bullets that fired out of it. Green leapt over the fallen man and straight over to his fellow trooper, holding him to his feet and supporting his weight as the two walked out of the hell hole barracks.

"What about Dead Sea?" One trooper asked to Major Polatli, who was overseeing the removal of Legion 'activity' in Nelson. Mainly removing their disgusting tributes from the camp and putting the bodies into a mass, unmarked grave.

"He'll get what's coming to him." The man mummered under a drag of a cigarette. "

"Justice will be served tonight."


	2. Chapter 2

The familiar taste of metallic was the only thing the Decanus was aware of, as he slowly regained consciousness. The next thing he felt was pain. Horrible, unbearable pain, that shot up from his injured leg. It was like someone was forcing a hot poker through the back of his knee, it took all his self restraint to not cry out from it. He whined and went to move, then it dawned on him.

He was tied to the chair.

Panic set in now. The Legionary thrashed and squirmed, trying to get free of his restraints. Dead Sea pulled to the right, then to the left. His binds still didn't give. After another five minutes of struggling to no avail, Dead Sea gave up. His struggle left him slightly out of breathe. While catching his breath, the Decanus tried to get a baring of his surroundings. He still in the barracks, that was one thing for sure. He was facing towards the entrance of the bathroom, which only added to the man's discomfort. He wouldn't be able to see anyone who came into the building.

He could be shot in the back of the head at any given moment.

And he'd never be able to look his killer in the eyes.

Almost on queue, the door behind him swung open with some force, followed by the sound of boots on hard wood. Dead Sea could tell more than one person entered the room. One of them walked into Dead Sea's line of sight and stood before him.

"So I finally get to meet the bastard who's been torturing all my men and women for fun."

"I've been here everyday, Polatli... You just needed to stop cowering under your desk for once and drop by."

It was hard to not grin at the Major's reaction. His jaw was clenched, as were his fists. "How many of Forlorn's head officers can fit under that desk, by the way?" The Decanus continued to bait.

"Can Reyes get under there too? What abo-"

A fist smashed into the bridge of the Decanus' nose. The Legionary grunted in pain, but it didn't wipe the shit-eating grin off of his face.

"Touch a nerve there did I, Polatli? Should I not insult your team of cowards back home?"

Joesph Polatli didn't justify his taunts with a response. He felt nothing but resentment for this man, if he could even be called a man. Monster was more appropriate. The NCR had its rules on prisoners of war, yes. But Dead Sea was not their prisoner, he was fair game. Polatli wanted this man to beg. Beg for death the same way the Legion's victims do.

"You know, Decanus." Polatli began, walking to the side of the captive Legionary and over to one of the desks. "You're a feared man. Half of my troopers don't wanna mentioned your damn name, in fear of you popping up out their toilets or something." He spoke calmly, as he reached for a pair of pliers left lying in a toolbox on the same desk. The dried blood on the tool was a clear indicator that it was an instrument of torture, used by the Legion on their captives.

"But they'll fear you no more, Dead Sea. Not when I show them what you're like after we're finished with you, you sick, disgusting fuck." The Major growled, pacing back to Dead Sea and grasping the lower part of his jaw hard.

"Force his mouth open."

Two of the troopers did so on command. One restrained the Legionnaire's neck, the other managed to prize the Decanus' jaws apart. Some kind of gag was applied, again- one of Dead Sea's once own used on his victims.

"Alright. How many troopers were strung up when we arrived?"

"Three, Major. Three were crucified." One trooper answered. He wasn't sure if the question was actually directed at the captive, but he wasn't exactly in a position to answer any kind of question.

"Three troopers. Three of your teeth. I think that sounds fair, don't you?" He asked Dead Sea, who's eyes were now wide with fear. "I'm glad you agree that's fair, Decanus."

With a word of warning, the pliers clamped around a molar in the back of the man's jaws. He twisted and pulled, watching the man's gums begin to well up with blood. Dead Sea made the most inhuman noises as the extraction continued. Like a coyote that was dying a slow, painful death. With a final twist and yank, the pliers pulled away with a perfect, bloody molar clamped between them.

"You have a cavity" The Major remarked, as he inspected the tooth before dropping it into an ashtray. Dead Sea could only whine and breath heavily, as the blood began to leak out of his mouth.

The process repeated for the next two teeth. Polatli selected another molar and a canine tooth. The canine came out with ease, Dead Sea found himself strangely relief when it simply slid out after being given a hard tug. It still hurt terribly, but it was nothing compared to the two molar's extraction. The second molar was even more difficult than the first one. No matter how many times the man twisted, pulled and yanked, it stayed stubbornly where it was. Tears began to stream down the Legionaries' face, he felt ashamed but the whole ordeal was too agonizing for him to handle.

Polatli released his grip on the tooth, stopping to think for a moment while making a typical 'hrmm' sound from his throat. "Pass me a switch-blade." He ordered and was handed one promptly. The trooper went ahead and dug the tooth's foundation up with the blade. The noise the Decanus made when the tooth was finally ripped out must've been what he could manage for a scream. 'Good' thought the Major to himself.

The devices were removed from the Legionnaire's mouth once the tooth was dropped into the tray with the others. The Decanus' head dropped to his chest, the blood that flowed from his mouth now soaking the brown chest plate.

"Good boy." Polatli cooed in a condescending tone, while patting the man's blonde hair. Dead Sea could only glare. Any attempt to speak only resulted in heaps of blood and saliva instead.

"That's all you Legionaries are, dogs. Filthy, rabid dogs." He said, continuing to run his fingers through his captives hair like he was petting an actual dog. Though he couldn't speak, Dead Sea made a firm point of pulling his head one side, away from his fingers. Hating every minute of his enemies touch. Polatli only laughed, then pretended to look hurt, pouting dramatically.

"You've got lovely hair. Nice and soft, it's a shame really... it'll probably be ruined after all this... Get the armour off him next." He demanded. Dead Sea was helpless against the removal off his shoulder pads, then the chest armour. Eventually, he just left in the crimson shirt and his lower clothings, much to his relief.

His armour was dumped to the floor by the two goons, then kicked aside. That only annoyed Dead Sea. That was Legion armour, armour he was proud to wear. Polatli noticed the look on the man's face when the armour was shunted aside.

"Awww... Do you not like people disrespecting your little football uniform, Dead Sea?"

Dead spoke this time, since the blood had finally stopped welling up in his mouth. "It is the armour worn by a Legionary... As a proud member of Caesar's Legion, it does anger me to see the lowest form of scum disrespect it." He snarled right back. He expected Polatli to be taken back, surprised by his captives sudden aggression when he thought he'd made him weak. But instead, his captor remained un-phased.

"Well, if you want to be represent Caesar so badly... Why don't we give you something a bit more...permanent?"

The hem of his shirt was pulled up, revealing soft, unscarred flesh. Dead Sea grunted and struggled to breath straight. His eyes widened and his body began to tremble when the tip of the blade pressed gently against his exposed chest.

"I'm thinking 'Legion rat', your thoughts, Decanus?"


	3. Chapter 3

Aurelius gently tapped the end of the pencil against his desk. The rubber made a dull tapping noise every time it made contact with the smooth surface below. He was wondering if he had time to smoke, before Decanus Severus would drop in to report for the day. The man shifted his huge frame from the seat beneath him and heaved himself over to his bed. The soft mattress gave a creak and a groan when Aurelius sat down upon it. A Centurion's armour was impressive, but it was damn heavy, even for a man of Aurelius' height and mass.

The office door suddenly burst open, much to the surprise of Aurelius, who nearly dropped his just removed helmet in surprise. A Legionary scout stood at the foot of the door, panting heavily. The man's eyes were bulging, like they would pop out of his skull at any given moment. The Centurion frowned, his strong brows furrowing together. He firmly put his helmet back on and strode over to the still panting scout. The man was almost keeled over at this point, still gasping for air.

"You better have good reason for barging in here like this, recruit!" Aurelius sternly told him. "You know all recruits must make an appointment to meet with me unless it's urgent."

"It-..."

"Yes?" Aurelius interrupted, folding his muscular arms as his patience for the man began to wear thin.

"It is- Sir..." The younger man wheezed. "We're- We're under-"

"Just where did you even come from? You're not my scout."

"Nelson...sir..." He finally managed to wheeze, before collapsing to his knees.

Aurelius' expression quickly changed. Dead Sea sent him? The Centurion quickly helped the young man to feet and got him into a chair, slightly more hospitable knowing it was one of Dead sea's soldiers. He hadn't heard from the Decanus in some time, it began to concern Aurelius as Dead sea always wrote to him at least once a week, much to the annoyance of the Legion message runners. Aurelius kept every message his partner sent him. It was a risk- The Legion had strict laws about soldiers not laying down with other soldiers, but he loved Dead Sea, more than any backwards laws.

He focused back on the man before him. "What do you need then? Or are you just relying a message from the Decanus?" he asked while pouring himself a glass of fresh water from the kitchen.

"Nelson- Under attack...Need...Urgent help..."

The glass that was in the Centurion's hand shattered from the force of his sudden grip. Quickly brushing the shards off of his palm, he went straight back to the scout. "What? The camp's under siege right now? What about your Decanus? Where is Dead Sea?!" He cried, shaking the poor, trembling scout's shoulders.

"I- Don't know if he survived sir... We were five men down when I ran to get help." He whined. The scout's lungs felt like they were on fire, he'd ran for what felt like hours. Not stopping until he was safely within the perimeters of Cottonwood Cove. Aurelius starred at him, trying to form a plan.

"Stay here. Get some rest, recruit." He ordered, letting the man go.

Aurelius couldn't waste a single second. He called for all his Veterans to come fourth, then placed Severus in charge of the camp in his brief absence. He had to get to Dead Sea, something inside him was telling him the Decanus was still alive and desperately needed Aurelius now more than ever.


End file.
